


The Secret

by OdioEtAmo



Series: In The Aftermath and Companion Pieces [2]
Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Coming Out, Freddie DC, Historical Romance, M/M, him an his pilot buddies, its Freddie's POV!, listen i love freddie and all his lil pilot buddies and now you have to as well, listen the captain is mentioned so this is still technically a ghosts fic dont @ me, spinoff fic for In The Aftermath
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23973247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdioEtAmo/pseuds/OdioEtAmo
Summary: It's 1940, and love is a more pleasant thing to talk about than war. A shame then, that Freddie cannot speak of it.The colour of his heart, and the joy brought to him by his Captain must remain a secret.
Relationships: The Captain (Ghosts TV 2019)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: In The Aftermath and Companion Pieces [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728412
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. The Post

**Author's Note:**

  * For [highinfibre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/highinfibre/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In The Aftermath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18774181) by [OdioEtAmo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdioEtAmo/pseuds/OdioEtAmo). 



> For Kellogg!!! Inspired by a conversation we had a while back- I submit this for your approval!!

Freddie sat in the officers mess, smoking a cigarette and watching the world go by. Outside a thin glass pane, rivulets of water ran in rivers down to the ground, ready to sink into the concrete and begin a thousand year journey down to the centre of the earth. At least, Freddie assumed that was their plan. The day when his school curriculum had touched on such things he had been too busy drawing beetles on his blotter to give it creedence. Consequently it would remain a mystery for the rest of his life. 

Somewhere out there, through the driving rain was his Beaut, sitting alone in its hangar. Freddie’s hands twinged with their inactivity, itching to be doing something, to be flying, or running about, or falling out of a tree. It was bad weather for flying tonight, and so nobody particularly wanted to brave going up. A foul blanket of stormcloud had rolled overhead, and hothead as he was, he didn’t want to spend the night flying above an invisible sea, totally blind to all danger and guided only by his fallible instruments. But he hated not moving. 

He slid around uncomfortably in his armchair, in the warm twilit haze of the bar. It was the one room in the air base where you could pretend to yourself that you were somewhere else, a club, and but for their uniforms some of these men could be old college mates. Actually, he had been to college with several of them but if he hadn’t cared about them then (and he hadn’t), he felt no great need to keep their society now. Such was life. Freddie clambered about in his chair, this time angling himself so his legs hung over one of the arms, and let his own arms stretch outside the confines of the chair. He had never been comfortable in the same position for more than a few minutes, a chronic wriggler from birth. He shifted from peculiar angle to peculiar angle, unaware or uncaring if people thought him strange. His father had been exactly the same. Funny then how eager they both had been to squeeze themselves into a tiny little cockpit with no leg room and scarcely enough space to breathe. Then again, fidgeting seemed the last thing on his mind when he was up in the skies, so maybe there was something to it instead.

A cigarette slid between Freddie’s fingers and he glanced up. 

Maximilian Kingsley hovered over him, vibrating lightly with excitement. He was well known among the company as an eccentric man and a particular friend of Freddie, who had a way of attracting the wilder ones. 

Kingsley was a swarthy young man with admirably black hair, a pencil mustache and uniquely pretty amber eyes. He had a willowy figure, an encyclopedic knowledge of the works of Voltaire and shoes with a lot more heel than most gentlemen got away with. He was a quarter of an inch away from being too short to be allowed to fly fighter planes, and he was also desperately popular with the ladies. Freddie didn’t know if the last two things were connected, but given how little he understood of the female psyche they could well have been. 

“Ta.” Freddie said, as Kingsley lit the cigarette, and proceeded to raise it to his lips. 

Kingsley set himself down in the empty chair to Freddie’s right and pulled another cigarette from his top pocket. 

“Looks like we’ve got the night off- I don’t think even the Germans would be willing to fly in this!” He gestured to the window, and the darkening scene outside, blurred by the driving rain. “For once I hope they have decent common sense.” 

Freddie took a long drag of his cigarette. “Don’t feel like taking a shower, do you?”

Kingsley gave him the evil eye. “Of course I don’t. You’ve seen what rainwater does to my hair.”

Freddie smirked at him and leaned over, reaching out to rumple Kingsley’s immaculate hair. Kingsley slapped his hand away before he could reach, narrowly avoiding his attack, and gave Freddie an even filthier look. Freddie didn’t know quite what it was that drove him to wind Kingsley up. He was gratifyingly easy to tease, though. 

Continuing to fix Freddie with what could have been a withering gaze from someone whose face was predisposed to give withering gazes, he shifted his chair further away from Freddie’s. 

“You know Bonham’s still trying to work up the courage to talk to that WAAF girl with the wonky nose.” He said sourly, hurt still tingeing his voice. “Maybe he’ll finally man up and ask the damn girl out- oh, here he comes.”

The aforementioned Alastair Bonham passed like a raincloud beside Freddie’s armchair and outstretched legs. He sank into the chair on the left with the air of a man sinking slowly but stoically into a patch of quicksand. Bonham was ginger, Scottish and built like a man you wouldn’t punch. He was Freddie’s partner, which made Freddie feel rather lucky. Their squadron had a number of particularly able pilots, as did the Poles they shared an airbase with. There were plenty with more experience than Bonham, and while neither Freddie nor Bonham could pretend that their aptitude for flying equalled that of the more senior officers, Freddie would rather fly with him than anyone else. 

“Cigarette?” Offered Kingsley, who despite being entirely unable to fathom Bonham’s plight, sympathised. 

Bonham held out a hand, words escaping him. Undeterred, Kingsley slotted a cigarette between two of his fingers and lit it with his pretty silver lighter, which was monogrammed in case some starry-eyed girl needed a token to remember him by. 

Bonham moved his cigarette to his mouth and inhaled, evidently the wrong way as he engaged immediately in a very loud coughing fit. When it subsided, he slunk even further into his chair. The look in his eyes said that he was beseeching the ceiling to fall in and kill him. 

“God, you two are such miseries today.” Kingsley bemoaned them as his two friends neglected to dive immediately into conversation. 

“I’m not a misery.” Freddie insisted.

“You are. Every time you get a letter we’re treated to a day of you in high dudgeon. It’s very hard on me, you know. I have other things to do than cheer you both up. Have you seen the new girl they have working in the kitchens?” His conversation drifted away, as it often did, to the subject of women. 

“I’m not in high dudgeon.” Freddie smirked. “I’m thinking. You should try it sometime, it might be good for you.” 

“Well then, DC. If you really are thinking, what exactly are you thinking about?”

Freddie groaned internally. He had walked into this one, and there was no way he could tell them the truth, because the truth had other little truths attached to it. Difficult truths. 

“...Current affairs. That sort of thing.” He professed, knowing even then that it was a pathetic shot. 

That raised a chuckle from Bonham, rousing him briefly from his ennui. To be quite honest, Freddie would have scoffed too. 

“You see? You’re distracted, and it’s by that letter. Happens every time.” Kingsley pointed out, smugly.

“Really, you’re just making things up.” Freddie grumbled. “Seeing patterns where they aren’t.” 

Two sets of eyes narrowed on Freddie. 

“No, Kingsley’s right.” Bonham said, his gently accented tones betraying real intrigue. “You go a bit strange when post comes for you. There’s something to it.”

“There is!” Kingsley crowed. “Come on DC, out with it! Are you being blackmailed?” 

Freddie’s expression remained blank. 

“Or…” One of Kingsley’s well shaped eyebrows waggled upwards. “Maybe you have a sweetheart.” 

“Fuck off, Kingsley.” Freddie leant back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. He could pretend that none of this was happening, maybe.

“Why would that make him sad, though?” Bonham pointed out. 

“Well, why should I know? I’m not him.” Snapped Kingsley. “Why wouldn’t he tell his friends what’s making him upset?” 

“Because it’s none of their damn business.” Freddie said, not bothering to look over. He was trying very hard not to be annoyed. He was rankled enough by the dumb silence he had to keep when the subject of girlfriends came up, as if thoughts of romance were as alien to him as they might have been to a child. He was not unfeeling after all. He resented that over time the other pilots had come to regard him as sexless, though it seemed that Kingsley and Bonham both had their doubts and that didn’t buoy his spirits much either. He had enough trouble keeping quiet as it was. 

“Then you admit that’s what’s making you crabby?” Kingsley said, making himself impossible to ignore.

It was Freddie’s turn to shoot Kingsley a filthy look as the man smirked at him, like a cat having completed a successful fish heist from the larder.

“No, and you’ve got no right to know either.” 

“Leave it be, Kingsley. He’s not going to tell us anything.” Bonham gave them both a sobering look. 

“Fine.” Kingsley grumbled, and pursed his lips. 

Freddie couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for his lack of trust in them. It seemed deeply mean-spirited to withhold his trust from men who risked their lives alongside him every day. He sat up, stubbing his cigarette into the ashtray. 

“I’ll get the next round.”


	2. The Magicians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not all fun and games for Freddie. Night hits and the skies await him.

The Klaxon sounded. 

“Alright, scramble, scramble!” Ordered Flight Lieutenant Shirer. “Get to your planes!”

In a matter of minutes Freddie found himself in the cockpit of Beaut, his engine running clear and smooth. Then up, into the skies. It was an overcast night, and there was no glinting of the moon to give other planes away. They flew in three sections, Freddie bringing up the leftmost tip of the second V. As usual, he was Magician Red 4 and Bonham just a little ahead of him, Magician Red 3.

“You should see them any moment now, Magician Leader. Do you see them, repeat, do you see them?” The WAAF on radio called out. Freddie’s flight pulled out of a stretch of cloud, into clear skies, empty and lit by a crescent moon, giving decent light. Nothing. 

Then a voice on the radio. 

“They’ve passed beneath us!” 

Beside him Freddie saw Bonham pull up, executing a sharp turn, and mirrored his movements behind him. Only then did he see it. The tail of a Messerschmidt slipped by below them, flying low. That was a sighting. Now Freddie had free reign. He followed behind Bonham, keeping a thousand solid feet above the Messerschmidt as he scoped out its companions. It had not come alone. 

Several Messerschmidts buzzed about, keeping formation around five Heinkel 111 bombers, glassy fronts leaving a view of the men inside for all to see. Freddie hesitated for a second, watching them. Other human beings, inside other exquisite machines. Then another Hurricane screamed past Freddie’s side aimed at the tail of one of the Heinkels. The natural chaos of combat washed over them, as several Messerschidts peeled off from their positions. Freddie made a shot at one of the bombers, accelerating to close on it, fingers clutching the trigger. He had misjudged it, putting a few useless extra holes in the tail before one of the Messerschmidts focused in on him, and now Freddie had no time to narrate, as he himself was in the line of fire. 

As he dived through tight gaps in the fray, trying to keep his tail clear he had a clear view as another of his fellows closed in on a Heinkel through the confusion, now separated from its escort. The plane flew almost too close to its target, barely avoiding a collision, as a well timed blast from its guns caught the left engine. It let out a torrent of flame, spinning out of control, and 

Freddie recognised Wolffe, Blue 3 following the bomber down. That one would be a confirmed for sure and Freddie could hear him whooping over the radio. It did not however make Wolffe less vulnerable in his distraction.

Then Freddie felt bullets passing over his left wing, and knew he too had been foolish. He executed a tight turn to the right hoping to dislodge his pursuer but the plane kept in his turning circle and Freddie missed the chance to take a shot at him. But before it could close on him the Messerschmidt veered off course, diving away to avoid a hail of bullets rained down on him by Bonham. 

He might have gotten away but one of Bonham’s shots got right through into his radiator and the whole thing seemed to crumple with the impact, flames spewing out as it fell to earth, and Freddie watched a parachute eject from it. A good night for the Magicians, it looked like. 

Around them the skies were empty, the commotion of the fight quite gone. It seemed that while he and Bonham had been busy with their Messerschmidt, the rest of the squadron had left them behind, still in pursuit of those bombers. But Freddie’s readings were off. The needle that indicated his fuel wobbled, dropping steadily. Either it was faulty or he was leaking fuel and he’d rather be cautious than try to run his Hurricane on empty. 

“Magician 33,” He used Bonham’s specific id now. “I’m running out of fuel. Headed back to base.” 

“Roger that.” Bonham responded, and followed him back home. 

As they landed, Freddie saw the fire crews gathered round. It looked like they hadn’t been quite so lucky after all. The smouldering wreckage of a Heinkel had caved in the roof of one of the mess buildings- the one he himself lodged in. Silently he cursed himself for his premature celebrations, and scrambled out of the cockpit. As soon as he was out of his plane, Bonham was already surveying the damage from afar, hands on his hips. 

“Wonder if that was Wolffe’s big triumph.” Murmured Bonham, and Freddie recalled their comrade’s whooping. This time with a degree more annoyance than before.

Several mechanics gathered around Beaut, tutting and whistling at all of the holes in the left wing. No wonder he’d been leaking fuel- Beaut had taken on some of the appearance of a sieve. Yet for once his plane couldn’t have been further from Freddie’s mind.

“My things.” He whispered. Most of his life’s most precious things were in there. Never mind his clothes and menial things like his wallet, that building had contained all of his precious letters. A photo of his father’s squadron with their Sopwith Pups and a jumper that did not belong to him also sprang to his mind, a pain clutching his stomach as he thought of them curled and consumed by fire.

He might never wear that jumper again.

Freddie sat down on the asphalt, watching as the last flickers of a blaze were finally put out. There was no knowing what might be intact, or how far the fire had spread. 

He reached into his pocket. They were all under strict instruction to remove everything from their pockets before a flight, for apparently as much as an old bus ticket could be useful to their enemy. But there was one thing that Freddie kept with him regardless, something that could not betray him or his country. It was just a simple lock of greying hair, tied up neatly with blue thread. He had taken it from his Theo the night he had returned from France, as he slept. Perhaps he should have asked, but the moment had never materialised and he had been nonetheless desperate for a keepsake. Now he held it close to his heart every time he took to the skies. A little piece of his home. 

“Knew you had a sweetheart.” 

Bonham sat down next to him, stretching out his long legs on the damp ground. His face was hard to make out, and Freddie couldn’t tell whether or not he was angry at him. It was hard to know what he thought at all. 

Freddie didn’t really know what he thought either. It was the kind of thing he normally got angry about, but he didn’t consider that the sort of guide to live his life by, and his brain was still racing, unable to slow or produce the words to say.

He looked up at Bonham, as the distant glow of the fire lit his face, the yearning that sat always just inside his rib cage seizing him up, making his limbs freeze into place.  _ ‘Yes.’ _ He longed to say. 

_ ‘Every night he sits up and watches the skies, just looking for me.’  _

_ ‘Yes, and I love him enough to fight this war.’  _

He felt the words inside him struggle to break free, flaring with the blaze in one grand hurrah, and then receding further within just as he opened his mouth to speak, and he remembered that he could not let himself be brave enough or trusting enough or stupid enough to let the love in him free, where it could be seen and not just kept.

Instead he just shuffled a little closer to his friend.  It would be a long night yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shoutout to Jess, for loving my boys! The playlist you made for Freddie and Theo is truly amazing, and it's going on the next chapter of In The Aftermath, but I'm gonna put it up here for anyone who wants to enjoy it! Absolutely worth the listen!
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CxJSRhnzbgdByHsnoRJs8?si=rYoZc7dGQaSoQtJhGlmRRA
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! I'm still continuing In The Aftermath of course, but a lil bit of Freddie POV called to me. I hope you enjoyed!!!


End file.
